


"Fools", said I, "You Do Not Know, Silence Like a Cancer Grows... Hear My Words That I Might Teach You, Take My Arms That I Might Reach You..."

by Huntress8611



Series: Whumptober 2020 [24]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Author's Favorite, BAMF Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Day 24, Depersonalization, Derealization, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Loss of time, M/M, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Whump, Panic Attacks, Protective Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Psychological Torture, Sensory Deprivation, Solitary Confinement, Torture, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress8611/pseuds/Huntress8611
Summary: Nicolo didn’t know how long he’d been here, wherever here was.When he’d first woken up, he’d panicked for a moment before taking stock of what he knew. He remembered a mission, and then getting knocked out. They must have taken him then. Everything felt wrong, he’d always hated any form of isolation or sensory deprivation, but he could cope, for now. They’d find him. They had to.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Whumptober 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946887
Comments: 10
Kudos: 169
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	"Fools", said I, "You Do Not Know, Silence Like a Cancer Grows... Hear My Words That I Might Teach You, Take My Arms That I Might Reach You..."

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work is from the song Sound of Silence by Disturbed (originally by Simon and Garfunkle).
> 
> This work fills the prompt for Whumptober Day 24: Sensory Deprivation.
> 
> # READ THIS
> 
> TWs: torture, psychological torture, sensory deprivation, isolation/solitary confinement, depersonalization/derealization (as a result of said sensory deprivation), panic attacks, loss of time
> 
> Please, PLEASE be careful with this one, it’s rough. It made me anxious writing it, so I know that it could definitely panic someone reading it. Let me know if I missed any warnings, I’ll add them immediately.
> 
> There’s a full summary in the end notes, though if anything on the list of TWs seems like it could affect you, I’d recommend not reading it.

Nicolo didn’t know how long he’d been here, wherever here was. It was dark. He couldn’t see anything, nor could he hear. He seemed to be in some sort of sound-proof room, and there seemed to be something covering his ears, meaning he couldn’t hear his own voice either. He couldn’t feel anything through whatever they’d dressed him in, and there was nothing to smell or taste.

When he’d first woken up, he’d panicked for a moment before taking stock of what he knew. He remembered a mission, and then getting knocked out. They must have taken him then. Everything felt wrong, he’d always hated any form of isolation or sensory deprivation, but he could cope, for now. They’d find him. They had to.

Soon after he’d woken, the panic started to set in. He hated this. He needed to be able to feel something, anything. He screamed, but couldn’t hear it. He tried to press himself against a wall, but couldn’t feel the pressure through the padded clothes. It was pitch black, and he longed to be able to see.

He couldn’t breathe, and he tried yet again to remove whatever was blocking his hearing, to pull off the thick gloves they’d put on him, but he couldn’t. He knew that he was having a panic attack, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nobody was there to help him, and he couldn’t ground himself because there was nothing to see or hear or taste or smell or  _ feel. _

The longer the panic attack continued, the less real he seemed. All he had was his thoughts, and they kept getting further and further away from him. Nothing was real. Did he exist? He didn’t know anymore.

\---------------

Yusuf was on a rampage. Those men had taken Nicolo. They’d taken him and he’d been gone for nearly two days. He didn’t know what they were doing to him, or what he would discover when they found him, but all that mattered to him was rescuing his Nicolo.

He was aware of Nile, Andy, and Booker around him, helping kill the guards, but all of his focus was on finding Nicolo.

He got his location from a guard pretty easily. Whoever had taken him needed to hire better security, these people gave in far too quickly. He ran towards where the guard had told him Nicolo was, and stopped at a heavily fortified door.

When he managed to open it, he flinched. God, no. It was a sensory deprivation room. Shit, Nicolo couldn’t cope with those. Not that most people did any good in them, but Nicolo tended to do so much worse with isolation and sensory deprivation than the rest of them did.

He wanted so badly to just rush over to the other man, to pull him into a tight hug and take him home immediately, but he knew he needed to be careful. He could hear the others speaking behind him, Andy guiding Nile away, explaining that too many people would do more harm than good.

Booker remained, gently squeezing his shoulder in support.

Yusuf walked over to where Nicolo was curled up in a ball in a corner of the room. It looked like they had him in some sort of padded body suit, and his eyes and ears were covered. He knelt next to him, Booker standing behind him, ready to intercept Nicolo if something went wrong.

They had closed the door behind them so as to not overwhelm him with sound. He didn’t want to take the blindfold off first because if he’d been in the dark this whole time, the harsh light of the room would hurt his eyes.

He grabbed the padded hat and earmuffs and carefully removed them from Nicolo’s head, being careful to not make any loud noises. He set it down on the ground and gently brushed his fingers against his cheek.

“Nicolo,” he whispered so quietly that it was barely audible. “Nicolo, you’re safe now, we’ve got you.”

Nicolo flinched back at the sound, and Yusuf just reached down to pull the gloves off of him, barely restraining himself from taking his hands between his own.

“Nicolo, can you speak to me?” he asked softly, this time speaking in the old Italian dialect that was Nicolo’s first language.

He got a shake of his head in return, which wasn’t ideal, but it was an improvement.

“I’m going to keep your eyes covered, I don’t want the lights to hurt you,” he explained, “but I will remove the rest of this padded suit.”

He quickly did as he’d said, and soon enough Nicolo was wearing only his normal clothes, with the addition of a blindfold.

“I’m going to take your hands now, okay?” He made sure to tell Nicolo everything he was going to do before he did it, not wanting to make anything worse. It hurt him to see his love like this.

Nicolo slowly nodded, but the movement seemed off. That made sense, considering that he was obviously dissociated.

He took Nicolo’s hands between his own and squeezed them. He had almost forgotten that Booker was still behind him until the other man began quietly humming a song that Yusuf recognized as an old French lullaby.

“Nicolo. Nicolo, this is real,” he murmured. “This is real, I’m real, you’re real.”

He kept hold of both of his hands in his one, and used his other hand to gently cup his face, rubbing his thumb along the other man’s cheekbone.

“Feel that? That’s real, Nicolo.”

Nicolo pulled one of his hands away from Yusuf, and he let him. He reached up to pull off his blindfold and, when he opened his eyes, he winced at the bright lights.

There was very little recognition in his Nicolo’s eyes, but there was a little, and Yusuf could work with that. He gently guided one of Nicolo’s hands to the rough velcro of his vest. He didn’t really have anything else that was textured, so this would have to do.

“Come back to me, my love. You’re safe now.”

He could see recognition slowly enter his eyes, and he sighed in relief.

Nicolo’s breathing sped up, and Yusuf let go of his hand. Nicolo leaned towards him, wrapping his arms around Yusuf tightly. He reciprocated, squeezing Nicolo as tightly as he could, trying to ground him as best he could.

“Yusuf,” he gasped. “Yusuf.”

“Right here,” he said. “I’m here. Breathe.”

Nicolo fought to take in slow, deep breaths, and it paid off.

“How- how long?” Nicolo asked tentatively, once he could breathe properly again.

“Two days,” he said. “They took you two days ago.”

He pressed his head into Yusuf’s shoulder with a quiet, pained noise.

Yusuf tightened his grip as much as he could. Nicolo had been deprived of his senses for nearly 48 hours, and the pressure helped remind him of what was real.

“Yusuf.”

“I’ve got you, Nicolo. I’ve got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Comprehensive Trigger Warnings/Summary (with spoilers):**
> 
> Nicky gets captured on a mission and ends up in a sensory deprivation chamber. (This is specifically based off of Baldwin’s Box.) The first half of the fic is from his POV and goes into detail regarding the ways that his senses are taken and it graphically depicts his depersonalization/derealization that results from said sensory deprivation. There is a panic attack described, which leads into that state of depersonalization/derealization. It’s mentioned that he’s had to deal with isolation and sensory deprivation beforehand that he didn’t cope well. He loses track of time and doesn’t know how long he’s been there.
> 
> The second part of the fic is from Joe’s POV. He and the others arrive to rescue Nicky, and he has to ground him and help get him out of his dissociative state. The fic ends with Nicky no longer dissociated, but still distressed.


End file.
